The Leader of the Pack Saixene
by Anaxn
Summary: Ais is technically too young to go to war. He shouldn't want to either. He has a wonderful girlfriend, Arleen, and his family. But with only his father's greatsword, the young man heads to war. Arleen waits for him, but is it in vain?


Ais prepared his armor, strapping the leather over his bare chest, his muscles covered by the treated skins. Buckling the thigh guards and heavy shoulder pads on, he grabbed a backpack in the corner, stocked with mainly dried meat and a few rice cakes. War provisions, required of any soldier. Slinging these over his shoulders, he hitched his great sword to his belt and slid on his fur boots. The war was sure to last a long time and it would be bad to travel without good shoes over the rough terrain of his land. Rolling up his bed sheets, Ais became troubled. What if they saw through his lie? What if they knew he was only 18, too young to join the war? Tying a string around the roll to keep it from unraveling, he secured it at the top of his bag behind his blue hair. Walking out of his tent, he watched as the other people of the village prepared their men for war. Many were better outfitted than he was. After all, he was simply a hunter's son. The others had their polished swords and bows and arrows. He had his father's old great sword, large and unwieldy, and he wondered again how he was going to survive this war. But he wanted to join, wanted to defend his civilization from attack by outsiders, to protect the people of his nation. Suddenly a note of remembrance hit Ais' mind.

"Arleen..." He whispered, and ran for the tent on the other side of the camp. Dodging people left and right, his eyes searched frantically for the tent with the stormy design, the tent Arleen lived in. Dashing down a pathway, he stopped in front of a large tent, tearing up clods of dirt with his boots. Panting slightly, he moved the flap aside and quietly entered her domain. Arleen's father's swords and old whips hung on the wall, Arleen's prized possessions.  
"Arleen?" He whispered, standing on the furs hesitantly. There was silence for a second, then his pierced ears picked up the rustling of cloth.  
"Ais?" Came a slightly surprised voice from behind the cloth in the back. Arleen pushed it away, stepping out towards him. Her blond hair was slightly tousled, long bangs hanging down on either side of her face.  
"Ais, it is you." She said, rushing towards him and wrapping her arms around his armored chest. Suddenly noticing the bag on his back, she stepped back, fear in her eyes.  
"You're going too?" She asked, concern running deftly through her eyes. He looked away slightly, a pink tint coloring his face.  
"But you're only 18! You're too young to go!" She exclaimed, hugging him again in almost desperation.  
"Besides… I don't want you to go." She whimpered, nuzzling his chest. Ais sighed, stroking her hair. Yes, this was the only possible thing that could keep him from fighting for his country, this girl. The girl he had hung out with for many years, and who he was now dating.  
"Arleen, you know how much this means to me. I promise to be back.""You can't promise that." She said spitefully, still burying her face in his chest armor. Righting herself, she poked his nose abruptly between his yellow-orange eyes.  
"If you don't come back, I'm going to find you and whip you until you do." She threatened, pouting slightly. Ais smiled a bit, giving her one last hug before walking out the door, waving at her. She waved back, but the pained expression remained on her face. Bringing her hand to her chest, she looked down, knowing that even if he did return, she would not be able to see him. Her mother disapproved of the young and rebellious man and forbade her from seeing him. As for her father... Well, that didn't matter.

Ais growled, keeping his great sword in his sweaty hands. His troops were mostly dead and the fifty that were alive were badly wounded. Blood ran from the slash just across his face, and his now standard issue lieutenant armor was caked with the dried blood of his enemies. The snow drifted from the pines down on the beleaguered armies, and the sounds of the frontline reached all the way into the copse of trees he had taken refuge under. Pain numbed by the cold, Ais stalked among his soldiers, each of them bleeding in at least two places.  
"Alright! We move out again in fifteen minutes!" He barked, and the soldiers reached for their water sacks or first aid kits. Ais himself walked to the far corner of the copse and pulled out the bandages so he could wrap the gash he got on his knee. Unbuckling the thigh guard, he grimaced as the cold assaulted the bare skin, unprotected by his shorts. The blood he could stand; he had seen much of it on his almost year-long stint in the army. Dashing it on, he quickly wound the linen over his injury before the cold could freeze it. Standing up, he snatched his great sword from the tree he left it on, and marched over to his troops.  
"Right! Prepare to move out!" He growled, shoving his sword into the frozen ground in front of him. The men wearily stood up, all except one.  
"I said get up, soldier!" Ais snapped again, and striding over, kicked the man in the shin. The soldier fell to the ground. Dead. Ais' eyes widened, and another older soldier commented.  
"What, haven't seen enough death yet, Lieutenant? You're still new to this, aren't you?" He snickered and the lieutenant regained his composure, spinning to face the veteran.  
"Back to your formation, soldier! I am your commanding officer, and you will do as I say." He snarled and the man smiled casually.  
"Alright, if you say so. You're the leader of this pack." Ais bared his teeth and strode back to his sword. Tugging it out of the ground, he led the march back to the battlefield, the screams of the dying becoming louder. As they broke the tree line of the field, they stopped in their tracks. Black figures were swarming the field, attacking both sides as the cause of the wretched yells.  
"Charge!" Ais roared, and the group ran down the hill towards their allies. Ais' great sword was well known in battle, but the black things did not seem to recognize it. They charged towards him and stroke after stroke, they disappeared into blackness. Fighting madly, another beast swiped at him, leaving an opposite scratch over the one he already had. With a stab, the creature swirled back into blackness. But that one beast gave the rest enough time to pile on Ais, and with a mighty roar, he was brought to the ground. Struggling against the things, he suddenly gasped as one punched through his chest. His blood ran on the ground in front of him and grey slowly invaded his vision, darkening his world and leaving him unconscious.

Arleen stared out at the white blanket over the ground. It had been a year and a half since Ais left for the war. Holding her fur coat closed, she sighed, looking both ways in search of someone she knew wasn't there. Shaking her head, she let the flap fall behind her and went to the fire ring in the middle of the tent. Slipping off the wolfskin gloves she wore, she paused before placing them near the fire. Ais had made them for her after he fought the wolf that threatened his hunting pack. Wiping a melted snowflake from her eye, she convinced herself that she wouldn't have to take the whip from the wall, that she wouldn't walk onto a battlefield and find him there. He would come back. She had managed to convince herself of this, even through the casualty list was growing each day. Hearing a commotion outside, she slid her gloves on again, and stepped outside. Suddenly something black launched itself at her head and with the reflexes given by adrenaline, she slapped it aside. Watching it fall to the ground, she was astonished to see that it left no mark. Shaking its head, it got up to reveal a set of blank yellow eyes. Quickly drawing a breath, she ran back inside and grabbed the first weapon she saw, a set of throwing knives. But before she could turn around, blood spurted from her chest onto the ground and table in front of her. Coughing up the red liquid, she tried to turn, but lost her balance and fell. She looked up to see more of the creatures running down her row. Her vision flickered and finally darkness overtook her.

Saix walked onto the grey land, snow crunching under his black boots. Sent to recruit the newest nobody in existence, he indifferently looked at all the tents, which despite all his denials, looked familiar. He passed one with wolf and moon markings on it and he paused, almost walking in, then reminded himself of his mission. Still it called to him. Stalking down the row, he made a random left, feeling the nothingness increase around him. Finally arriving at a stormily marked tent, he saw inside a woman a little bit younger than him lying on the ground. Smirking, he brushed away the hanging door and entered. He stared at her, noticing her yellow hair styled back in two strands. A vague memory stirred in the back of his mind, something warm and caring, but it was immediately crushed by his lack of emotions. Nudging her with his boot, she groaned and stirred a bit."Get up." He said flatly and she looked up, eyes narrowing at him. The letters floating brightly in the air, though, distracted her. A, R, L… Saix watched as they formed ARLEEN in midair. Again, the sense of familiarity and something like love stirred in his chest, but as the X entered the name, it died out. They spun and her blue eyes lit up. LARXENE they now spelled.  
"That's your name now, so get up. I am Saix, the Lunar diviner, and you are to be the twelfth member of Organization XII."  
"Saix..." The female murmured, moved by something deep where her heart should be, then shook her head and stood up.  
"Saix, is it? And where are we going?" She asked, purposely forgetting the blue letters that she saw in front of him  
AIS.


End file.
